Classic Poem

Upon my reaping Day the 28th of August 1648

Hayle to that sylver hand
At whose Command
The orient Pearle of Dawne
Like lillies sprung up under whitest lawne
Appeares t'inrich our hopes that soe wee may
Put on the assurance of a fayer Day
And promise noe more raine to Dash our plenty
Since tis already august th'eight and twenty.

Up then and Ceres bless
With full encrease
Of goulden eares of well filld Corne
Till every sheafe at once bee borne
Into the barne and their of Comforts raise
Whilst they fill up the empty bayes
And tel us that their shall noe more be want
In winter whilst wee imitate the Ant.

Yet their will more goe to't
Words will not do't
But hands employd must bee
And sickles usd with rakes and furmety
And binders too be gott
With the black Jack and Hagon pott
That whilst with working each doe sweate
Those may allay and temper heate.

And for to add to thes
The bacon peas
The sith and pitching-forke
Must all in season too be sett a worke
Nor the browne Lusty lass
In her straw hatt must here unmentioned pas
But every one in their Compartments Come
And reape and binde and loade my Hock Cart home.

Thus have I seene a streame before
All Coverd ore
With swans as now each one
His Doublet ofe did seeme the feild upon
And Like to poppy in a lilly bed
White waste Coates mixt with petty Coates of red
Soe that to plentyes store it might appeare
Beauty had been Contributary heere.

The Mare and fillyes and the rest
That must be drest
As puppet Jack and Gill
With Serimonies mirth to fill
And as rewards unto the swaines
To mak them sport after their toyle and paines
I must alone (by business Calld away)
Leave to the Gierles and children to defray
Yet that they better may this task goe through
Let them find Gill I'le find them Goldsburrough.